Loyalty
by kalyzio
Summary: COMPLETE. Trevor's in trouble again, and Harvey's had enough. "If you choose to go to Montana to help Trevor, then go. But before you do, leave your badge on your desk."
1. Chapter 1

**Loyalty**

* * *

><p>He had known the call was inevitable.<p>

And since he had known this, he had prepared. He had mentally run through the various scenarios over and over again, each time reiterating to himself that _this_ time, he would be firm. "Trevor, _no_, I can't help you."

Six words. Six simple, simple words.

But when the inevitable call came at 3AM, what he _said_ was, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Only after he had hung up the phone did he drop down on the couch, bury his face in his hands, and say, "Shit."

* * *

><p>Mike nervously straightened his tie as he approached Harvey's office. Play it cool, he reminded himself. All he had to do was casually ask Harvey for a few days off to settle a personal matter, and hope and pray that the man wouldn't ask too many questions.<p>

Who was he kidding? Harvey was Harvey. There would be questions.

But what choice did he have?

Determined, he swallowed past the lump in his throat, schooled his features into something approaching neutrality, and strode forward -

- only to be stopped short by Donna's arched eyebrow. "Where do you think you're going, mister?"

"I need to see him. It's urgent."

She gave him an unimpressed expression that plainly read, _oh I've heard that one before._

"What have you done?" she said.

"I - I don't know what you mean."

Smooth. Real smooth.

"You look like you're expecting Harvey to kill you. So before I allow a potential murder to occur under my watch, you'd better have a good reason why I should let you in there."

He hesitated a moment, his eyes flying between the silent, imposing figure of Harvey at his desk, and at the stubborn expression of his fiery assistant.

"Donna," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "A friend needs my help."

She regarded him sternly for several seconds more, and then: "Oh you," she sighed, the unrelenting professional facade dropping away, as she nodded her head at the office's glass door. "Go."

"Donna, thanks. Thanks," he said fervently, even as he nervously reached up to tighten his tie.

"Loosen it. Your eyes look like they're about to bulge out of your head."

He smiled sheepishly, straightening his tie, and knocked on Harvey's door.

"Come in."

Show time. Mike took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself.

Harvey sat behind the expanse of the sleek plexiglass desk, looking as unruffled and impeccable as always. He set down a heavy looking case file, and said - with a distinct note of amusement in his tone - "You both went through Donna first and knocked on the door. Could her numerous reminders have finally sunk in?"

Mike managed a wry smile. "Not quite."

"In this, the eidetic memory fails," Harvey said dryly, "Tell me what's wrong."

"I - what? Why would you think something's wrong?"

"You never knock," Harvey said pointedly. "That was a clue."

"Oh right. Sorry. About the knocking thing. The never knocking thing."

He was babbling like an idiot, and Harvey certainly didn't look impressed.

"I don't have all day. Talk," he said.

But all the cool, collected phrases Mike had practiced had left him. He cast about, trying to regain some of his usual ease. He knew some of the other junior associates were damn intimidated by Harvey, but he had never been one of them!

"I need to take a few days off," he began.

"No."

"For a personal - no? Wait, what?"

"Are any of your immediate family members dying?"

"No?"

"Then the answer is no."

Mike set his jaw. "According to the New York State Department of Labor - "

"You are classified as an exempt employee, which effectively precludes you from the provisions of the FLSA and any and all New York wage-and-hour laws." Harvey arched an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"You can't just deny my request like that."

"On what basis are you defining your argument?"

"I _need_ to - "

"That would hardly convince a jury."

"Hey, you can hardly presume to speak for twelve non-existent people."

A touch of a smile pulled at Harvey's lips as he stood up. He crossed in front of his desk and leaned casually against it, and then said, almost indifferently, "So you need to help a friend."

"How did you - " Unbidden, his eyes flew to Donna.

"She's not the only one who can read lips."

His shoulders slumped. Busted.

"It's Trevor again, isn't it?"

Lying was still an option, but he had a sinking feeling that Harvey would see right through it. He nodded.

"I thought you bought him a one-way ticket to Montana."

"He is in Montana. He's been arrested."

Harvey's face hardened. "Illegal drug possession? Or sale?"

"Assault. With a deadly weapon."

Both of Harvey's eyebrows shot up.

"With a car, apparently." Mike grimaced. "He says he's innocent."

"He's not just asking you to fly to Montana to bail him out, is he?"

How the fuck did Harvey know everything?

Warily, he admitted, "He asked me to defend him."

"I see." Harvey wheeled around and strode to the window. For several long moments he simply gazed out the windows at the bustling streets below with every appearance of avid interest, but Mike had the impression that his boss was seeing none of it.

"You're not going."

Wait, what? He needed a few seconds to make sure he'd heard that correctly. "Harvey, hey wait, you can't - "

"I don't seem to recall needing - let alone, asking for - your opinion."

"He's my friend," Mike said, frustration beginning to seep into his tone. "I'm not like you. I don't abandon my friends."

Harvey's back stiffened.

And belatedly, Mike regretted his words. "I didn't mean - it's just, you've been telling me from day one to turn my back on my best friend."

"You're his best friend. He's not yours."

"You don't know him!"

"I risked my life for his ungrateful, undeserving ass, and he didn't even have the courtesy to keep himself out of trouble for a month. I think that tells me enough."

Mike shook his head resolutely. "I can't abandon him. You don't - you _couldn't - _understand. He fucked his life up the way I did. What he is – where he is – that could be me."

"_Would_ have been you," Harvey's tone was dry and brittle, "if not for me_."_

"I - " Staggered, Mike took a half-step backwards, his expression torn. He recognized an ultimatum situation when he saw one, and he damn well didn't like it. How the hell could he chose? How could he choose between the man he had once thought of as a brother, and the man who had saved him from himself?

Harvey turned around sharply, and Mike had to force himself to maintain eye contact.

"Answer me this. How many times are you going to let him ruin your life?"

He swallowed roughly.

"Answer me. Now."

But no words were coming to mind. No words at all.

"I've said it before. Cut him out. Let him spend some time in prison. He certainly deserves it, and it might even do him some good."

He was shaking his head. He was shaking his head even before rational thought kicked in, but he knew, he just _knew_ that he couldn't leave a friend in prison.

For just a second, he saw hurt and disappointment flash across Harvey's face. And then it was gone, so whisper fast that Mike wasn't even sure he'd seen it there. But if it had been there, then he was shaken, shaken to the core at that momentary glimpse of emotion from a man who kept everything from the world.

"I don't have time to deal with this. You've asked, I said no," Harvey said evenly. His lawyer face. His lawyer voice. "If you choose to go to Montana to help Trevor, then go. But before you do, leave your badge on your desk. Now get out."

Of all the ways he had thought this meeting would go, he hadn't expected this. Mike stood rooted to the spot, stunned. "Harvey - "

"I won't say it again." Harvey gave him one last hard look before wheeling sharply around, seating himself behind the desk and picking up a sheaf of papers. His long fingers quickly leafed through them before he settled on one, perusing it with what appeared to be great intent. He gave no indication whatsoever that the angry words they'd exchanged had had any impact.

Mike hesitated a moment longer, hoping, still hoping for a response, for something other than the curt dismissal.

None came.

With every part of his body feeling like lead, he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for the kind feedback! I definitely cranked this chapter out faster as a result.

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><p>The rest of the afternoon felt like a blur. Mike felt as though he was experiencing an out-of-body experience: though his fingers rifled through file folders and his eyes scanned blocks and blocks of texts for subtleties and exploitable loopholes, his mind was far elsewhere.<p>

It was with Trevor, back in high school, back when Mike had felt so terribly awkward with his gangly limbs and thick glasses. Trevor had been the cool one, the star wide receiver, the one who threw the best parties. Hell, he'd even gotten Jenny, the prettiest girl in the school, to go out with him. And most importantly, he hadn't ever let anyone dick around with Mike.

It was with Harvey, several weeks back, when they'd first met, and the best words he'd heard in years: "_I'm inclined to give you a shot__…_"

It was with Trevor again, back in fourth grade, as they pressed grubby, bloody palms together. Trevor's voice, unnaturally solemn, ghosted through the years…"_ now we're official blood brothers_."

Finally, _finally_, it was seven at night, and Mike declined to order food when the other associates did. He had other plans.

Thirty minutes later, he was locking his bike to a rusting rack, next to a sign that read Sobreto Village Nursing Home.

"I hope you brought a pizza," were the first words his grandmother said to him. "They tried to feed me stewed carrots today."

He couldn't quite bring the smile to his face. "Next time, Grammy, I promise. How does a supreme with extra cheese sound?"

She looked at him keenly, then, and he knew she had seen right through his attempt at levity.

"Uh-oh, I smell trouble," she said, as he took a seat at her bedside. She reached out a wrinkled hand for him, and he instinctively took it. "Tell me what's wrong."

Mike stared at their intertwined hands, trying to formulate the whirlwind of emotion in his heart into some sort of coherent thought.

"From the beginning, Michael," she prompted gently.

Amazing how even after all these years, she still gave him strength.

He took a deep breath and found the words came a bit more easily, "Trevor's been arrested in Montana. He's been charged with assault with a deadly weapon - a car - but he claims he's innocent. He asked me to go defend him, but when I brought it up with Harvey, he was - well, he won't let me go."

Her grip tightened slightly at mention of Trevor.

"He gave me a choice," Mike said, "I can go to Montana and do what I can for Trevor. But if I do...I - I - resign."

"Oh dear."

He searched her face closely. "Are you angry at me?"

"Heavens, why would I be?"

"I made you a promise, Grammy. I got my chance at a better life, and now I might throw it away."

"I always said that boy was a bad influence," she sniffed.

"He's my oldest friend," he said, helplessly. It came down to that. It always came down to that.

She pressed her lips together and didn't comment.

"You must be mad at someone. You're squeezing my hand harder than you have in years."

"Isn't it a wondrous thing what anger can do for your arthritis?" she quipped lightly, but she loosened her grip. "Oh Michael, you are correct. I am angry. In fact, I am quite cross with both those people who claim to be your friend."

"Harvey's my boss," he said automatically.

"And I always said the worst thing you can do is lie to yourself. You know Harvey is more than that. But that is a conversation for another time. The fact remains that now, at a time when he should be your friend, he is not doing a very good job of it."

Despite himself, Mike grinned slightly. "Nobody criticizes Harvey Specter, Grammy."

"Well then he certainly needs to be knocked down a peg or two!" she exclaimed. "Listen carefully, Michael. I can indeed understand Mr. Perfect Specter's reasoning. I too would rather you never have anything to do with that boy Trevor again."

"You don't think I should go."

She was shaking her head. "That is what I think, but what matters is what _you_ think. What must you do, to sleep soundly at night? What does your heart tell you is right?"

He looked down, his mind flashing back to the mock trial of a few weeks ago. He had been on the cusp of winning. All he had had to do was break Rachel: to tear her apart on the witness stand, to use what he knew of her vulnerabilities - the secrets she had trusted him with - to break her.

He hadn't done it then. He hadn't been willing to pay the price of his soul for a pretend victory.

But everyone else _had_.

"The firm...they want me to be someone. A great lawyer. An asset to the firm. But the person they want me to be...Grammy, it's not me. Maybe I'm not doing the right thing after all."

Her brow furrowed as she stroked his hand thoughtfully. "Did you ever get a business card?"

Grateful for the opportunity to disguise his emotion, Mike reached into his wallet and fumbled for one of the cards. He remembered how proud he had been the day Harvey had dropped them off at his desk. _My mistake is now official._

"Pearson Hardman," she read quietly, "Mike Ross, Associate." She smiled.

He looked up at her, at those kindly eyes he knew so well, and somehow it was harder now, harder to walk away, now that he had finally put the proof of his newfound success in her hands. That business card meant he was somebody - somebody other than a screw-up.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, "I can't keep my promise."

"Oh, Michael. Did I ask you to promise me to be a prominent lawyer?" she said, "Did I ask you to promise me to be filthy, stinking rich?"

He shook his head silently.

"Well good! I thought that sounded rather unlike me. The point is, Michael, don't you see that you are honoring your promise? You _are_ living to your potential. You are a man honorable enough to be willing to give up all those things - fame, money - things every person dreams of having, to save a man who deserves the sewer. I have never been prouder of you."

Something suspicious stung his eyes; a lump welled in his throat.

"If this is not who you are," she waved the business card before his face, "then so be it."

And with that, she tossed the business card to the floor.

He didn't pick it up.

* * *

><p>Around ten in the evening, after most of his fellow junior associates had left for home, Mike began to pack up his desk. In all honesty, there wasn't much. He gathered several case files he'd been working on into a stack, jotting down a quick Post-It note about his progress and findings. His meager office supplies he threw into his top drawer.<p>

"Tidying up?"

Mike straightened slowly from where he'd been hunched over clearing out his bottom cabinet. "Hi, Rachel."

Her sharp eyes swept over his desk. "You're not tidying up," she accused.

This was a conversation he really, really didn't want to have.

She leaned forward, lowered her voice to a hush. "Nobody...nobody found out your...secret?"

"That isn't it. But thanks, I appreciate your concern."

"Talk to me," she insisted, "What's going on?"

He shook his head. "I'd really rather not."

"Come on."

"Rachel - "

But what he'd been about to say was cut short.

"So Harvey's little pet project couldn't cut it," junior associate Kyle sneered, walking in from the hallways with a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. "Why are you even asking him what he's doing, Rachel? It's clear he's been fired."

If a wall had been readily available, Mike would have banged his head against it. Of all the people to run see at this hour, why did it have to be his mock trial opponent, Louis' protégé?

Rachel flashed Kyle a smile that was all teeth and no humor. "Just because your mind is only capable of holding one possibility doesn't mean it's truth. For all you know, he's moving to a real office while you're stuck in cube land."

Mike wished she would stop. He was touched that she was speaking up for him, but oh, it was just going to hurt more when they came back in the morning and saw him gone.

"Ooh burn," Kyle said mockingly. "Why don't we place a bet then, you and I?"

"Don't be childish," she snapped.

"Come on," Kyle said, grinning broadly, "If Ross is gone by tomorrow, you go out with me. One date."

"Hey," Mike interjected, rising to his feet.

But Rachel didn't need help defending herself. Her stance welled with indignation. "Back off right now, Kyle, or I'll slap you with a dozen sexual harassment charges. We all know you've got a personal vendetta against Mike just because you're jealous. Wouldn't you just love to be Mr. Specter's protégé instead of Louis'?"

His eyes narrowed. "I beat Mike at mock trial. You helped me."

"And it's the last I'll ever do it again. If you were dying of thirst, I wouldn't even spit on you."

With an annoyed huff, Kyle spun sharply around. "See you, Ross," he smirked, "Rachel can deny it all she wants, but we both know you'll be gone tomorrow."

Once he had disappeared from sight, Rachel turned back around, her eyes glittering with new intensity. "Is it true?"

"Rachel," he avoided her gaze.

"You were going to leave without even saying goodbye?" She stared at him incredulously. "What's going on?"

Mike unclipped his badge and tossed it onto his desk.

"You're not serious. Mike, tell me you're joking."

With slow, deliberate movements, he picked up his satchel and slung it over his shoulders. "Goodbye, Rachel."

"The hell? This isn't funny," she burst out, following him with quick, angry steps as he headed for the elevator, "Don't think you're getting away that easy. Tell me what's going on or I swear I'll - "

The elevator doors opened.

Revealing none other than Harvey Specter.

Rachel's angry tirade drew to an abrupt halt.

Mike stopped where he was, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Harvey looked the two of them over, his dark eyes lingering for just a second too long at where Mike's badge used to be.

Silence.

Harvey's austere expression never changed as he stepped out of the elevator and swept past them. No anger. No sadness. No goodbye. Nothing.

Mike's breath returned to him in a whoosh. "Harvey - " he said, turning around to face the man.

But Harvey was gone.

* * *

><p>He bought his ticket to Montana that night.<p>

**tbc**

**Author's Note:** eeps, he actually left. When I'd first plotted this story in my mind, that wasn't really the game plan. Coming up: Harvey's reaction, and tons of case details. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** oh my, you guys are amazing! Thanks for all the kind words! I am not even kidding when I say I stayed up to 6am getting this chapter out. I then promptly fell into bed and had some very crazy dreams involving Harvey and Mike...hmm, come to think of it, maybe I should stay up late writing more often? ;)

* * *

><p>He had left. He had really left.<p>

Harvey's hands shook slightly as he picked up Mike's badge. When he had presented his ultimatum, he had thought Mike would choose him - no, choose _the firm_, he corrected himself sternly. He had thought Mike would choose the future that had promise instead of the bleak echo of the past. It was what anybody with half a brain would do!

How could the boy be such an _idiot_? He was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to him. And for what? For some drugged up piece of scum not even worth the air he breathed?

His large hands closed around the plastic casing of the badge. Good. He needed to feel something solid, something to replace the sudden hollowness he felt inside.

No. He was just being ridiculous. He was only angry because now he had to go through the tedious process of hiring another associate. As for anything else that he felt, hell, it was late! He was tired.

"Mr. Specter."

He turned sharply, quickly wiping all emotion from his face. It was one of the paralegals who had called his name, the one that Mike had always been so sweet on. Rachel. Yes, that was her name.

Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. "What just happened?"

"Nothing," he said coarsely. "Excuse me."

"How could you fire Mike?" she burst out.

Unexpectedly strong irritation surged through him at the question; he was a senior partner at this firm and he damn well didn't need to answer to her. Without even acknowledging that he'd heard, he strode away, still clenching the badge in his hands.

His mind raced over the events that had just transpired. He had timed his visit down to the junior associate cubes deliberately, waiting for a time when the area was usually deserted. Part of him had been absolutely certain that he'd see his associate's things scattered all about as usual. Hell, he'd half been expecting to see Mike still there, hunched over a case file, highlighter in hand, pen in his teeth, his profile illuminated only by the harsh glare of the computer monitor.

He hadn't been prepared at all to see the abandoned badge.

Harvey knew he was damn good at reading people. It was one of the strengths that made him such a fantastic lawyer. But he hadn't seen this coming. Not at all.

Who in their fucking right mind would pick someone of the likes of Trevor over this job? Who the _fuck_ did that? It defied all logical thinking.

And here he had thought the boy was smart.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God, man, I knew you'd pull through."<p>

Mike stiffened as Trevor drew him into a one-armed hug. His friend looked haggard - he was unshaven, his eyes red, his dark curls in disarray.

Trevor thumped him on the back and then pulled away, a goofy grin on his face. "Are you here to bail me out?"

"No," Mike said shortly.

The smile faded somewhat.

"I don't have the money to do it again," Mike said coolly, "but I am here to defend you."

"Don't have the money?" Trevor blinked, "Hey, aren't you the hotshot New York lawyer working for Headman Possley?"

"Pearson Hardman," he corrected automatically, even as a stab of pain shot through him at the reminder of what he'd left behind.

Trevor waved a hand. "Whatever."

"Let's talk about the case," Mike said quietly, leading Trevor over to a metal table that looked rather like a picnic table nailed to the floor. He opened up the manila folder containing the CAD transcript and the police officer's report. "I've read the reports, but I want to hear it from you."

"Those reports are probably full of shit anyway. I'll tell it to you straight. It was Tuesday night, and of course I was out clubbing when I saw this redhead chick at the bar. I bought her a drink and asked her to dance. You know my style."

"Had you been drinking yourself?"

"No," Trevor asserted firmly, "You know I'm low on cash, man. I had to save it for the ladies."

Of course. He believed it.

"Go on," he said.

"Well she didn't seem that interested in getting it on, so I left her after the dance and hooked up with a few other ladies. I was gonna buy one of them a drink when I noticed that my fucking wallet missing. I started searching all over - pawing at my pockets, checking the floor - and then I look up and I see that girl again."

"The redhead."

"Yeah, that one. I look up at her, she looks at me, and all a sudden she starts running. So that's suspicious, right? I pushed through the crowd and outside the bar, and I see she's about a block away, her and some friend of hers. It's two AM or something, so it's dark out, and they've got a helluva headstart on me. So I go for my truck - it's one I bought for cheap off some farmer - and it's a real piece of shit. But I figure I can only catch her if I'm going faster.

So I'm in my truck, cruising on some residential street, and she and her friend are still running. I yell out at her to stop, she keeps going. Her friend's got her phone out, and she's calling the police I guess.

Then they suddenly stop running, and I hit the brakes of the truck only to find that they don't work. So I do the only thing I can do to stop my truck, and I'm only going about five miles per hour or something like that, and so I put on the hand brake. Well the whole truck starts fishtailing, and I run it into these thick hedges and some sort of white picket fence. Truck comes to a stop, I jump out, and these bitches are screaming at me for hurting the tree."

Mike frowned as he processed that.

"For hurting the tree?"

"I don't know, man. They sure weren't yelling about me driving my car at them then."

"So you got out of your truck. What'd you do then?"

"I confronted her!" Trevor said, his fists clenching, "I told her that I was onto her, that she better give me my wallet back right then and there or there'd be hell to pay."

"Her friend had reached 911 by then. Your threat made it into the call record."

"I wasn't going to hit her or anything," Trevor protested, "Come on, man. You know I've never hit a woman in my life. I just wanted to scare her."

"That could easily be argued as assault," Mike said grimly, "How far away were you from the two girls?"

"At least ten feet. Really? Assault?"

"Keep talking. We'll figure out the details later."

"Well they started yelling at me that the police were coming, and so I told them, good! I was going to call them myself to report a pickpocket. So we all just stood around yelling until the police showed up. Those girls burst into tears and started pointing at me and yammering about how I'd threatened them, and he arrested me. It was only later in jail that I even heard that they had mentioned me running at them with a truck."

"No word on your wallet?"

Trevor scowled. "Fucking police wouldn't listen to me."

"Drop the attitude, Trevor. A jury will never sympathize if you look that pissed off in a courtroom."

For the first time, Trevor looked apprehensive. "Can you save me, Mike? It doesn't sound that bad, does it?"

Mike grimaced. "I don't want to make any promises. Look, give me a day or two to review the police records and transcripts in detail, okay? I'll have a better idea of our chances once I get a feel for how the cards stack up against us."

"All right. All right." Trevor exhaled, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Thanks for coming down here, man. Or. West-here. I dunno. I…look, I owe you one, okay?"

"If the last time you tried to pay me back is anything to judge by…let's forget about it, all right?"

He didn't regret coming out here, but he knew that what he'd given up could never be repaid.

* * *

><p>Mike skimmed through the headers of the 911 CAD transcript with minimal interest. It was filled with acronyms that he wasn't too sure how to decipher – he supposed things like SO9 and K8 were officer call signals, and then there were a few timestamps noting when the call had come in, when the officer had arrived on scene, and when Trevor's arrest had been reported to dispatch.<p>

The actual transcript he read with more care:

DISPATCHER: Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?

SARAH COOPER: Please help! There's this crazy man from the bar

threatening me and my friend!

MONIQUE BELL: Call the police! Help! Someone!

DISPATCHER: Ma'am, help is on the way. I'm going to need some

more information from you. Where is your current location?

SARAH COOPER: [REDACTED] Please hurry! Look, look you can _hear_ him –

MALE VOICE (indistinct): - give it back right now – I'll fucking – you – got that?

DISPATCH: Yes, ma'am, I can hear him. I am calling a unit to your location

right now. Can you please describe the man?

MONIQUE BELL: I didn't take shit! Get away from me!

SARAH COOPER: Please! We need an officer right now!

DISPATCHER: Ma'am, please remain calm, we have one unit headed your way.

If you could provide a description of his appearance, it would be of

great help to our officers.

SARAH COOPER: You better back off! I've called the police!

MONIQUE BELL: Hear that? The police are on their way!

MALE VOICE: (indistinct) – you fucking dirty little thief –

DISPATCH: Caucasian, black, Hispanic?

SARAH COOPER: I'll scream, I'll scream and wake everyone up!

MONIQUE BELL: She's still on the phone with 911! They can hear

everything you're saying!

MALE VOICE: (indistinct)

DISPATCH: Ma'am, I advise that you and your friend back away slowly. The

police are on their way; do nothing to aggravate the situation. Do you hear me?

MONIQUE BELL: You fucking 'tard! Should've never danced with you!

MALE VOICE: (indistinct)

SARAH COOPER: You tell him how it is!

DISPATCH: Ma'am, please do not aggravate the situation. I repeat, do not -

[call terminated]

Based on the police report, Monique Bell was the redhead, Sarah Cooper the friend. Mike furrowed his brow as he reread the police report summary that the officer who had arrived on scene had written.

Caucasian, young man, mid-to-late 20s. Hostile and belligerent upon

arrival at scene. Continually alleged one of the women, redhead early 20s had

stolen his wallet while dancing in a bar. Shouted often, was unresponsive

to attempts to calming. Women were in near hysterics shouting that he

had been threatening them with bodily harm if they did not return aforementioned

money. Man grew hostile at accusations and became unruly; arrested him

for disorderly conduct.

Interviewed the two women on scene after a partner, K82, arrived on scene

to escort man to county jail. Redhead then alleged that man had threatened their persons,

in addition to attempting to run them over with his motor vehicle, a light-blue

1960s Ford F100 truck. Truck was smashed into hedges and fence of property at

[redacted], minimal damage to front bumper, fence picks knocked to 45 degree angle.

And most concerning of all was a PI report from a private investigator the district attorney had ordered. It plainly stated that the 1960s Ford F100 truck's brakes and steering had been investigated, and found to be in poor, albeit working condition.

Mike quickly reviewed the photos that the police had taken of the truck. There were several shots of the truck, the front buried in the hedge, and three shots of the interior. The inside was a mess - there were empty beer bottles and soda cans everywhere, some crumpled bags of chips, even a pizza box. It was typical Trevor.

He set down the case folder, swallowing hard. He was in over his head. He was in _way_ over his head. Who was he kidding? He'd never done a criminal trial before. He wasn't even a real lawyer! And now that he had the reports and Trevor's statement, he no idea what he should do next. Could he find witnesses? Who could collaborate anything Trevor had said? Or should he suggest Trevor take the stand, at risk of baring his throat to the prosecution?

No. _No_. He knew Trevor was far too emotionally unstable to ever be allowed to take the stand. He'd overreact in a second under pressure, the second he thought he was being insulted.

But if he had no witnesses, damning transcripts, and a defendant who couldn't be trusted on the stand, then what case did he have?

* * *

><p>The next day, he again visited Trevor at jail. "Your best bet is a plea bargain," he said, without preamble. "The prosecutor is a district attorney, a woman named Martha Mays. I can arrange a meeting with her."<p>

Trevor wrinkled his nose. "What does that mean?"

"You plead guilty – "

"Hell no!"

Mike grimaced. "Hear me out. You plead guilty to the lesser charge of assault, Trevor, and they let you off easier. A reduced sentence. Maybe we can get away with just a fine."

Then again, for an original charge of assault with a deadly weapon, he doubted a mere probation would fly.

"Or house arrest. Or a shortened prison sentence," he amended.

"No," Trevor said flatly, "I'm not spending any time in jail if I'm innocent!"

"Think!" Mike snapped, "You think your chances look good? You have no witnesses to collaborate your story. The 911 dispatch report clearly suggests you were the aggressor. It even caught one of your threats on record. You've already been arrested once before for disorderly conduct. And just how hard do you think Martha Mays will have to work to find out that you were a druggie?"

"Hey, I asked you to come here to defend me, and you're making arrangements with the other side to lock me up – "

"I gave up my fucking job to come here, you ungrateful bastard!"

Trevor's mouth snapped shut. "What?"

Mike sagged in his chair, his anger spent. "You heard me."

"Mike – listen, man – "

"Forget it, okay?"

There was a long pause. Trevor shuffled his feet awkwardly. "You really don't think I stand a chance in court?"

Undoubtedly.

"I would go for the plea bargain," he said.

Trevor blew out his breath in a huff, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. "Okay," he said quietly, and then, "Maybe I could – maybe I could have a word with Harvey, y'know? Get you your job back?"

The mental image of anyone, let alone _Trevor_, having a word with Harvey flashed across Mike's mind, and for some inexplicable reason, he started laughing even though it really, really wasn't very funny at all.

* * *

><p>Harvey should have known he couldn't keep something like this from Jessica forever.<p>

"Where is your associate?" she demanded, the second he stepped into her office and pulled the door shut.

"Good morning. Yes, I am doing quite well, thanks for asking. And yourself?"

She pushed back from her desk and rose to her full height. "Good morning, Harvey. Answer the question, please."

Harvey thought of Mike's badge, locked away in his top cabinet drawer. He should have chucked it into the trash. He didn't even know why he'd kept it.

"I've always said I work best alone."

"Harvey Specter, I think I recognize an attempt at stalling when I see one."

Point. He forced a quick, tight smile. "He isn't here. And since when do you keep tabs on junior associates?"

"When it becomes my business to do so," she said archly. "Tell me what happened."

He swallowed down the pain, picking up a random, oddly shaped glass figurine from her desk and rolling it casually in his hands. "You thought he was too soft to be a lawyer. You were right," he said lightly. Carelessly.

He was Harvey Specter. Why did he give a damn if the kid had thrown it all away? He'd find another.

She looked at him severely for a moment. "Cancel whatever else you were planning on doing this morning. Other partners will cover for you," she said finally, "You'll be meeting with a new client."

"That important, huh?"

He didn't really care who it was. He was just glad she'd changed the subject.

She handed him a folded piece of paper.

That wasn't how it was usually done. Suspiciously, he took it from her and unfolded it.

_Sobreto Village Nursing Home, Room 147_.

* * *

><p>Sobreto Village Nursing Home was a plain, rather unassuming place, minimally staffed, simply furnished. Harvey's lips thinned with distaste as he strode through the corridors, noting the dulled wallpaper beginning to peel off the walls.<p>

"Room 147, sir," one of the attendants said.

He smiled a thank you, pausing for just a second outside the door to make sure that his tie was straight and that his hair was in order. It was a reflexive gesture, one he did before meeting any client, and he did it now though he had a strong suspicion that this latest 'client' was anything but.

"Please enter," a frail voice called at his knock.

He pushed the door open.

An elderly woman was sitting on the sole chair in the room. She looked diminutive, her clothes hanging off of her as though they had once fit perfectly, but her warm smile was radiant. "Mr. Specter, I'm presuming," she said, "My, aren't you a handsome one."

He flashed a practiced smile. "Mrs. Ross. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Please take a seat," she said, and then chuckled, "Well, I suppose I have hogged the only one. If you'd be patient, I would be happy to move – "

"No, please. I prefer the bed anyhow. If I may."

He gracefully seated himself across from her.

"Thank you, Mr. Specter, for making the time to see me. I understand you must be so terribly busy, given how much time Michael spends at work. I can hardly imagine how busy it must be for a senior partner!"

"I was surprised you were able to reach me, ma'am."

Her eyes twinkled as she held up a small white card. "I filched Michael's business card from him a few days ago. The young lady receptionist was very kind, and passed along my message. Heavens, I was surprised to find myself speaking with the managing partner herself, but she was most understanding."

His mind drew rapid conclusions from her words. "Mike didn't ask you to call me."

"I imagine he would be dreadfully embarrassed if he knew."

Well, this was an interesting development.

"I wanted to thank you, Mr. Specter. You gave Michael a new life."

"Ma'am, please," he said, uncomfortably. He didn't deserve this. Not now. If she had heard from Mike recently, then surely she knew what had happened…

She looked at him kindly. "Do you realize that we have something in common? Ah, yes," she said, "Perhaps not fashion taste or hair styling products, but if what I hear from Michael is correct, we both have a…distaste, shall I say, for Trevor."

He very carefully kept his face blank.

"I do not like that boy. I never did. He was a bad sort from the time he was eight and encouraged Michael to cheat on tests for the first time, all the way through high school with his wild parties, and through to adulthood. But Mr. Specter, when Michael came to me saying that Trevor needed his assistance, and that he would need to resign this wondrous opportunity he'd been given, I told him to go. I told him to go, because I didn't want his heart to be burdened with guilt."

She looked at him keenly. "And you, Mr. Specter? I am well aware of the choice you put before him. Was that fair?"

"Yes, ma'am. Professionally."

"Bah! It has been many, many years since I was in the work force. You know I'm not speaking of professionally."

Harvey winced inwardly. He supposed he had…perhaps a bit…tried to manipulate Mike's decision.

"You gambled with matters of the heart, Mr. Specter, as I'm certain you do every day in your business transactions. You gambled, and this time, you lost."

"I wouldn't have put my career on the line for anyone."

"But you did put your _life_ on the line for Michael."

He looked away.

"Is career so important to you, Mr. Specter?"

"It's all I have."

"It's all you _had, _perhaps. You have a friend now, too, whether you realize it or not. And you _protect_ your friends. Even when they are scumbags like Trevor, and _especially_ when they're not."

He shook his head. "Respectfully, ma'am, friends don't exist in this business. Any day, you might face one of them as your opposing counsel."

And winning was everything. Friends _knew_ you, knew your psychology, knew your weaknesses. Friends could predict your moves, and stab you where it hurt.

"Might I presume to give you a spot of advice?"

"Please."

She smiled gently at him. "When you are as old as I, you won't have a career. You may have good memories of a time when you did, you may have honorary positions and millions in the bank, your name etched in plaques in the hallways – but none of that will matter. Consider that, Mr. Specter, when you are weighing the choice of career or friendship."

Mike's words from the day before slammed back into his memory: "_I'm not like you! I don't abandon my friends._"

He'd written it off as just a petty insult the other day, but…no, that wasn't true. The words had hit him harder than he'd expected, he who usually let insults bounce off him like nothing.

Shit. Mike had, however knowingly or not, somewhat managed to pierce the chink in his armor.

"Michael hurt you," she said delicately, "You feel he betrayed you by choosing to go help Trevor."

That was nonsense. He didn't get hurt. He never let himself get hurt by others.

"He did what he had to do," he said, flippantly.

But he knew, and _she_ knew, that the flippancy was a lie.

"As you will do what you must do. Even though Michael hurt you. Even though you hurt him."

"I didn't hurt - "

"You gave him an impossible ultimatum to try to force his behavior, when what he _deserved_ was your understanding."

"It was a very reasonable - "

"Mr. Specter," she said severely, and he ground to a halt.

He hated to admit it, but she was right. She was _right._

Soundlessly, he gave a minute nod.

"You seem to be a good man, Mr. Specter. I am very grateful that my grandson works for you."

He looked her in the eye, and knew immediately that her words and choice of tense hadn't been as innocuous as they superficially seemed. They had been a deliberate challenge.

"You should have been a lawyer, ma'am."

"And you are a lawyer, and an excellent deflector at that," she laughed, "Very well. I have enjoyed our conversation. I know you must be a busy man, so I will not keep you long."

As he made his way toward his car, Harvey paused for a moment at the receptionist's desk. "This place looks in need of renovation," he commented.

She looked at him dourly. "You think? But with the rising cost of medical equipment, if it comes down to having what we need and having pretty flowers outside..."

"I'm the type of person who likes to have both." And with that, he passed her a check.

* * *

><p>By the time Harvey had returned to the office, he had made the decision. He was going to Montana.<p>

Not because he _cared_ about the kid or anything, he reasoned to himself. He was going to Montana, so he could personally kick Mike's ass for being such an idiot. Plus he really, really didn't want to have to hire another associate.

"Louis Litt has been looking for you," Donna said, as he stopped by her desk.

He dismissed that without much thought. "Donna, can I ask you for a favor?"

"I've already canceled your appointments for the remainder of the week." She held up an envelope. "Your flight to Montana leaves in four hours. Ray is waiting outside with the car to take you to the airport. You have a hotel reservation down the street from where Mike is staying. I've written down the address of the county jail and courthouse on the envelope." She held up another manila folder. "This contains a copy of the prosecution's evidence."

He blinked at her.

"And I've more or less told Louis to shove it because you'll be out of town," she added as an afterthought.

"How did - how did you - ?" He couldn't keep the smile from his face. "Donna, you _are_ amazing. What would I do without you?"

"Trip over your own untied shoes, probably," she said.

His smile faded, and he tilted his head, looking back at her with a wounded look.

"Oops," she said, with an innocent smile, "Did I say that out loud?"

* * *

><p>District attorney Martha Mays was a formidable looking woman, likely in her late thirties, with greying brown hair pulled tightly into a bun, piercing brown eyes, and rather aquiline features.<p>

"I hear the defendant is interested in a plea bargain. Name your terms," she said briskly, not even bothering with an introduction.

Awkwardly, Mike sat back down. He had originally risen to shake her hand, but she'd left him in-limbo. "He'll plead guilty to the lesser charge of assault. Drop the charge of aggravated assault with a motor vehicle."

She snorted. "Assault alone is merely a misdemeanor. Why should the People even consider these terms?"

"You have no evidence that Trevor used the truck with _intent_ to hit the two women. You only have statements from the two themselves, which isn't considered as trustworthy as a neutral third party account. Without proof of intent, there is no assault."

"And you only have the defendant as witness. I believe the jury will find him far less trustworthy, especially since the CAD transcript and police reports all indicate that the defendant was hostile for no cause," she said, "The reports also clearly indicate that both Ms. Bell and Ms. Cooper were frightened."

"The defendant wasn't hostile without cause. Ms. Bell stole his wallet."

"That isn't a fact. The police found nothing to prove anything of the sort."

"The police didn't investigate that claim at all."

"Because they found the defendant untrustworthy," she snorted, "That only aids my case."

He swallowed. "You still have no indisputable proof of intent that Trevor wanted to hit the two. There is room for reasonable doubt."

"If that's all you have, we're done."

His mind raced, and he threw out the last, desperate argument he had brainstormed the previous night. "There's an arguable inconsistency with the girls' reaction."

She made a bored, go-on gesture with her hand.

"They never even mentioned Trevor driving the truck at them during the 911 dispatch call. They only later brought it up to the officer on scene."

"And?"

"If I were to drive at you with a truck, and you were dialing 911, wouldn't it be one of the _first_ things that you mention?"

He held his breath, waiting.

But the words fell flat in the air.

"Not if I were in shock," she said patronizingly, "Which, given the situation, would be absolutely understandable."

That had been his supposed ace in the pocket.

She looked at him knowingly. "What did you say your name was, Mr...?"

"Ross. Mike Ross."

"Ah, Mr. Ross," she broke out into a broad smile, "I had a feeling you might come to Montana."

He looked at her narrowly.

"Yes," she said, "I conducted a thorough investigation into the defendant's past. Your name cropped up a number of times."

Shit. Shit, _shit_. If she had ordered a background check of Trevor, then she knew so many things...

"Supposing I were to build this case on trustworthiness and credibility," she said, "And supposing I were to call you as a character witness to the defendant. I think you, Mr. Ross, could speak to a great many things on the defendant's past that would greatly aid my case."

"Mike would never - " Trevor began savagely.

Mike kicked him under the table. Hard.

Too late. Mays' smile grew. "So there is something he could say then. Something you'd rather keep hidden."

"By Montana's Rule of Professional Conduct 3.7, you'd first need to prove I'm a necessary witness," Mike said, with a calm and confidence that he didn't feel.

"Ah, but who better knows of your friend's past than his oldest friend? I think I could easily convince a judge that your testimony is unique and necessary. And that would disqualify you from acting as his advocate, would it not?"

_Shit._

She smiled broadly, with the look of a cat that has just seen a mouse. "But after seeing you in action, Mr. Ross, I do believe I would like to face you at trial. So I won't invoke Rule 3.7 this time." She stood up. "No plea bargain. I look forward to seeing you in court."

As she left the room, Mike let his head drop to the table.

They were so fucking screwed.

* * *

><p>After reassuring a white-faced Trevor that he would review all the evidence and try to look for <em>something<em> to work with, Mike stepped out of the county jail and into the brisk early evening chill. The sun was in the final stages of setting, painting long shadows across the pavement.

He pulled his suit jacket closer around him and shivered, and not simply from the cold.

"You must be a man of great faith. Or a great fool."

Mike whipped around at the voice. It couldn't be. It _couldn't be_.

And yet it was.

It was Harvey - dressed in a perfectly pressed dark suit, a manila folder in hand - casually leaning against the wall of the county jail, looking for all the world as if there was absolutely nothing unusual about the fact that he was there.

He must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Something.

Harvey pulled himself off the wall. Three quick strides, and he was in front of Mike, thwapping the manila folder against Mike's chest. "You didn't even bother asking the police for a copy of the audio tape? The CAD report? You simply took the prosecution's copy at face value?"

Mike had never thought he'd see Harvey again, let alone here, in Montana, and for him to show up looking as immaculately composed as he always was - and wait, was Harvey _helping_?

He found his voice again. "What are you doing here?"

Harvey looked back at him impassively. "We have work to do. Get moving."

**tbc**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was a bit of a double chapter, just as a thank you to all the folks who reviewed. I'll send over the full story as I have it to anyone who correctly guesses how Harvey's going to use the evidence (the CAD transcript, the police officer's statement, PI report, witness statement). As always, I'd love to hear what you think.**  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I had fun reading the comments, and especially the guesses. Kudos to the 2 or 3 who guessed right! Thanks, all, for the lovely feedback. Your reviews never fail to brighten my day. **

* * *

><p>Mike was positively bursting with questions, but it seemed Harvey was hardly in the mood for talking. Without even waiting for acknowledgement, the older man started heading back into the county jail.<p>

"I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist at the desk said, "Visiting hours for the general public are over."

"I'm an attorney," Harvey said shortly. "According to your sign, I have twenty-seven minutes."

"I'll need to check your identification - "

"And now twenty-six minutes."

The receptionist looked at Harvey nervously. "If you'll please leave your driver's license at the desk, I can let you in now. Who is your client?"

Despite himself, Mike suppressed a smile as he followed Harvey and a security guard through the county jail facilities. Harvey certainly had a knack for getting his way, there was no doubting that.

Once inside one of the visitation rooms, Harvey nodded curtly at the lone picnic table. "Sit."

Obediently, Mike sat down. The other man didn't appear any more receptive to talking, but he licked his lips anyway and tried, "Look - "

"Not now."

The buzzer at the door sounded, and Trevor appeared, escorted by the security guard. "Twenty four minutes," the guard said, before locking the door.

Trevor's eyes swung wildly between Mike and Harvey, and then to Mike's utter surprise, he blurted, "Harvey, man, you've got to give Mike his job back. I swear I never would have asked for his help if - "

"Here's what's going to happen," Harvey interrupted, his tone as frigid as ice, "You are going to stop talking right now. If your mouth moves, it better only be to answer any and all questions that I have. And you are going to answer them all _honestly._"

Trevor's mouth snapped shut and he nodded.

"Good. I'll make no secret of the fact that I'd rather be prosecuting you than defending you," Harvey said, folding his arms across his chest, "But circumstances have forced my hand. So since I'm putting _my_ reputation on the line for you, if I later find out that you lied to me and made a liar of me, I will _personally_ throw you in prison and ensure you stay there for the rest of your sorry life. Is that clear?"

For the first time in his life, Mike saw Trevor mute.

With speed and precision, Harvey led him through recollecting the testimony. Every now and then he paused Trevor's recanting of events every once in awhile to ask for clarification. Trevor's story matched exactly the details that Mike remembered. That, at least, lent credence to the idea that Trevor could be telling the truth. His friend had never been good at maintaining consistent lies.

"Are you going to help me?" Trevor said, at the end, when Harvey's questions ceased.

Mike recognized the expression on Harvey's face at the question, the look that was Harvey's patented _that-was-such-a-stupid-question-I-don't-even-know-what-to-say_ look. And predictably, Harvey didn't deign to respond. He simply gathered his notes into a file folder, tucked it under his arm, strode to the door, and called out for the guard.

Trevor swung his gaze to Mike, desperate. "Is he?"

"He wouldn't have come here for no reason," Mike said.

"Does that mean yes?"

"It means we stand a chance."

* * *

><p>He caught up with Harvey outside the county jail.<p>

Without slowing his pace, the older man said, "File a subpoena for the 911 audio tape."

"We have the CAD transcript."

"We have the prosecution's copy of the CAD transcript," Harvey corrected, "I want the tape."

"Oo-kay."

"Good."

To his embarrassment, Mike almost felt compelled to break out into a jog to keep up with Harvey's pace. "Hang on," he said.

His thoughts were a jumble.

Why was Harvey here? Had he come to help? But _why_ would he have come to help? The older man had made his feelings about Trevor perfectly clear on more than one occasion. And yet he had helped Trevor once before…

Ridiculous as it was, Mike wanted desperately to believe that Harvey was here to help him. He knew the man had a heart despite his determination to project otherwise to the world, but…this was still Harvey Specter. Was this really something Harvey would do?

Or somehow, someway, could Harvey have been ordered to come to Montana? He dismissed the possibility almost immediately. Only one person had the power to order Harvey, and Mike was pretty darn sure that Jessica would have welcomed the news of his resignation rather than felt compelled to send Harvey after him.

Was he even an associate with the company any more? Harvey had made it pretty damn clear that he'd be resigning if he chose to come to Montana, and yet…could there be some hope? His heart pounded at the thought.

He didn't know which question he should ask first. He didn't even know how to phrase any of them.

So what he said was: "You never answered my question."

Harvey was silent. Mike chanced a sideways glance at him. "Hello?"

"Did you hear what I said? File a subpoena."

"You _owe_ me an answer - " He drew to a halt, but it was too late. Shit, he wished he could take back those words.

"I owe you?" Harvey repeated incredulously. He stopped in his tracks, and pinned Mike with a look that could freeze a fire. "And where does this sense of entitlement come from, exactly?"

"You didn't give a damn about my – "

"Your what? Your _feelings_? I've told you before. I care about the job."

"Yes, yes I know, the great Harvey Specter only cares for _himself_ – "

"I'm not the one who walked away."

"You gave me no choice!"

"Did I put a gun to your head?"

"Oh this analogy again?"

He didn't know why he was yelling at Harvey. He really, really didn't. All he knew was that he _wanted_ to. This was a catharsis, an outlet for the past few days of tension and stress, and replaying that moment in Harvey's office over and over again in his mind.

A catharsis for the resentment he'd felt, at being forced to choose between his job and his friend.

Harvey drew a sharp breath, squared his shoulders. "Go file the subpoena."

"You forget I don't work for you anymore," Mike said bitterly, "You can't just order me around."

"Excuse me?" Every syllable was hard and taut with anger. "Should I fly back to New York? Is my help wanted here or not?"

So he _had_ come out here to help.

He had flown all the way out here, for no reason other than to help him. Despite the fact that he had left.

Mike closed his eyes as shame suddenly washed over him. What was he doing? What was he _saying_? "Harvey, I'm - I'm sorry, okay?"

It was as if the tension had crested, crested, crested, and then broken with his apology.

The hard lines on Harvey's face relented.

Mike suddenly felt exhausted as he admitted, "You have no idea how grateful I am that you're here. The DA, she's - she's crazy good. If she has her way, Trevor won't see the light of day until maximum sentence has been served."

"And wouldn't that be a tragedy," Harvey said, his voice just a few shades shy of acerbic. "I'm going to get some sleep. Call me when you have the tape."

And with a terse nod, he was gone.

* * *

><p>The tape arrived the following afternoon. Harvey instructed him to bring all the evidence, including the tape, to his hotel room.<p>

Harvey answered the door at his first knock, and Mike gaped at him. "A three-piece suit? Really? In your own hotel room?"

Like a _sane_ person, he had elected to dress comfortably: a well-worn grey T-shirt and blue jeans. He hadn't given much thought to his wardrobe choice that morning, but now, standing next to Harvey, who was dressed in what was likely a $12,000 suit, he felt a bit out of place.

"Appearance," Harvey said, with a hint of reprove in his tone, "always matters."

"Nobody's even here," Mike muttered, as he stepped inside the lavish suite. Harvey must have booked a room at the only five-star hotel in all of Montana, because his suite was _nice_. Leather sofas, beautiful tapestries, a four-poster bed...it definitely beat the Motel 8 he was staying at.

"So nice to know you consider yourself 'nobody,'" Harvey said dryly, seating himself in one of the armchairs.

"I didn't - I didn't mean - well, being 'Nobody' worked for Odysseus with the Cyclops." Mike heaved a sigh as he dropped to the sofa, shrugging off his brown satchel.

Harvey raised an eyebrow.

"Homer's _Odyssey_?" Mike tried.

Nothing.

"It's a Greek classic?"

"I recognized the allusion."

"It's just, you had no look of recognition on your face. You know?"

Harvey's expression really wasn't giving him very much to work with. "Forget it," Mike said, deciding that now was probably a good time to change the subject, "I've got the CD of the 911 call."

"Good." Deftly, Harvey popped the CD into the room's sound system and settled back in the armchair, the remote control in his hand.

It was a simple action, but it changed the entire atmosphere of the room; the quiet tension – their forced attempts at levity – dissipated. This was just another case. This was the two of them, working together, in their element.

The room filled with sound.

"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"

Frowning, Harvey stopped the playback, turned up the volume, and restarted it.

"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"

Stopped. Restarted.

"[dialing] Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"

What was he looking for? What was he doing? Mike leaned forward. "What - " he began.

Harvey held up a hand, forestalling the question. "Listen closely. At the very beginning, during the dialing." He started the track again. One dial. Two dial.

And there. There it was. A laugh. Practically indiscernible, but definitely unmistakable.

"Missoula County 911, what is your emergency?"

Harvey stopped the track. "You hear that?"

"A laugh," Mike said slowly.

"Our smoking gun," Harvey said, with a satisfied smile. He replayed the tape in entirety. "Given that laugh at the beginning, does the rest of the conversation sound like two terrified young women? Or two women playacting for the camera?"

From that perspective, Mike reread the transcript. "They were _taunting_ Trevor toward the end of the call. They weren't afraid. They were hamming it up for dispatch." He shook his head in amazement. "How did you know to get the tape?"

"It was a hunch. The fact that the prosecution's evidence only contained the CAD dispatch was a major red flag. _Why _wouldn't she submit the audio tape into record as well?"

The CAD transcript, Mike recalled, started logging when dispatch picked up a call. The audio tape, on the other hand, began recording the moment the call came in, providing valuable additional seconds of information.

"Will it be enough?" he said.

"By itself? Maybe not. But it's a start."

The two were silent for a moment, both deep in thought.

"Even if that flies, there's still the question of the truck," Mike pointed out, "The PI reported nothing was wrong with the brakes or the steering."

"The picture of the truck interior does show that the emergency brake was up. His fishtail could have been genuine, especially if he panicked and put the brake up too quickly."

Mike pulled it out and inspected it carefully. Harvey was right. The emergency brake was up. But still...

And then it hit him. "The brakes could have been perfectly functional," he realized, "But maybe they still failed."

"Say again? Coherently."

Giddy with his realization, Mike grinned broadly as he turned the photo around to show Harvey. "Look at all that crap in his truck, especially all those empty beer bottles and soda cans on the floor. What if one of them was wedged under the brake when he pressed it? After the truck fishtailed and hit the hedges, it might have been knocked free, hence why it doesn't show in the picture."

A slow smile began to spread across Harvey's face; Mike warmed to see it. "That sounds like enough for reasonable doubt."

"You think we've got a case?"

Harvey's eyes gleamed. "We've got a case."

* * *

><p>They called for another meeting with Martha Mays.<p>

She did a double take when she saw Harvey, her eyes assessing him suspiciously.

"Harvey Specter," he said, proffering a hand.

"Martha Mays." She glanced around the room, looking at both Trevor and Mike. "Two lawyers for a trivial case of aggravated assault?"

"Considering the evidence you attempted to obfuscate, yes," Harvey said easily. "Please, have a seat."

Mike reflected back to his own ignored handshake, and thought for a moment how unfair it was that Harvey had so easily taken control over the situation.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mays said derisively. "I made all my evidence available to your boy there."

Harvey smiled pleasantly. "You seem like you're an experienced lawyer, Ms. Mays. I find it difficult to believe that you wouldn't have cross-checked the CAD transcript with the 911 audio tape."

Her eyes flickered. "As would I."

A safe answer. A neutral answer.

"Mike?" Harvey prompted.

Mike reached into his suit jacket and withdrew the CD, flipping it casually between his fingers.

"You do realize that if this case goes to trial, we _will_ play the 911 audio recording for the jury," Harvey said.

She looked at him boldly. "For what purpose, exactly?"

"Oh I think you know. Why else wouldn't you be planning to enter it into evidence?"

"All the relevant information from that audio recording is captured in the CAD transcript. All the facts."

"All the _dialogue_," Harvey agreed blandly. "Now I have been in this business for quite awhile, Ms. Mays. From my experience, when an audio recording is available, it is usually used. Juries are so often more easily swayed when they can _hear_ the fear and the panic, instead of reading off a transcript. Now," he smiled, "I've listened to the recording. Ms. Bell and Ms. Cooper certainly sound frightened enough. Quite a convincing act. Given their talents, I'm astonished you would have elected to use the transcript rather than the recording."

"You dare suggest that they were pretending?"

"Oh, I'll do more than suggest. I'll _prove_ that they were pretending."

She smiled, mirthlessly. "Good luck with that, Mr. Specter. Good luck convincing any member of that jury that a _man_ understands the fear two young woman might feel when confronted by a hostile, dangerous man."

"Then why not enter the record into evidence? What are you afraid of?"

"Absolutely nothing," she snapped.

"Then enter the recording."

At Harvey's nod, Mike pushed the CD across the table. Mays stared at it for a long time, her lips puckering, and Mike hastily suppressed a smile. She was cornered. She was cornered, and she damn well knew it.

"It's not for you, Mr. Specter, to tell me how I should run my case."

Harvey smiled. "That tells me all I need to know."

"You're far off the mark," she snapped. "Besides, I could still call Mr. Ross to the stand to testify against the defendant's character."

"Objection, relevance," he shot back.

She responded as if addressing a judge: "Your Honor, I am trying to establish a pattern of the defendant's past behavior as they pertain to this case."

"Your Honor, there is nothing in Michael Ross's testimony that is related to charges of assault or aggravated assault."

"There is a record of alcohol and drug abuse!"

"As I said, relevance." Harvey smiled, a self-assured smile.

"I could still use his testimony to establish the defendant's credibility."

"Objection, bad character evidence. Defense has not opened the door by introducing good reputation evidence, and the defendant isn't testifying. On what grounds does the prosecution need to establish credibility?"

A beat.

Mike had to fight hard to keep the grin off his face. Harvey in his element was always a sight to behold. _This_ was the kind of lawyer he had wanted to be.

"Are we done?" Mays said coldly.

"Take the settlement," Harvey advised.

She gave a bark of laughter. "That's cute. See here, Mr. Specter, I think you overestimate yourself. You swagger in here, with your expensive suit and slicked hair, and you think the jury will fall for your charm. This is _Montana_, sir." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Come to think of it, if you're not a member of the state bar, then you have no business acting as counsel."

Crap. Mike's stomach clenched. That particular obstacle hadn't even crossed his mind.

"I would never make such a rookie mistake," Harvey snorted. "Would you like to see my certificate of good standing?"

Mike was so relieved that he didn't even bother with indignation at Harvey's pointed insult. Of course Harvey was prepared. Harvey was _always_ prepared.

"You still dare presume that you understand the people of Montana better than I do?"

"Why not make a wager of it?"

"I do not play _games_ with serious matters!"

"Ah, but just earlier you called this a trivial case?"

Her eyes glittered with anger.

"Oh rest assured that I happen to agree with you," Harvey said patronizingly, "This case is child's play."

Something changed in her face, something like a smirk. "Then why not let the child play?"

It took a few seconds before it dawned on Mike that both lawyers were looking directly at _him_.

Harvey had a distinct look of satisfaction on his face, and Mike had the sudden realization that Harvey had deliberately _led_ her to that suggestion. "Bring in Ms. Monique Bell for an interview," he said, "I'll bet that my associate can destroy her credibility within fifteen minutes."

"Destroy her credibility?"

"Catch her in a lie," Harvey said easily.

She considered. "The conversation will be on the record?"

"On the record, with no questioning or prompting from either you or me. Standard rules of cross-ex."

"And if he fails?"

"Defense will not enter the audio recording into evidence."

What the hell was Harvey doing? How could he be so willing to declare inadmissible one of their _integral_ pieces of evidence?

"And if he succeeds," Harvey continued, "Prosecution will agree to drop all charges against my client."

"And when will this…exercise…take place?"

"How does tomorrow morning sound?"

She appraised Mike with hungry eyes, the eyes of a wolf that has just seen easy prey. "Agreed."

He clamped down hard on his alarm.

"We will, of course, need your signature on this written agreement," Harvey said, reaching into his suit jacket and withdrawing a folded piece of paper. "Can I offer you a pen?"

* * *

><p>The second the door clanged shut behind Mays, Mike burst out, "Are you insane? You just agreed to throw out one of our best pieces of evidence!"<p>

"Only if you fail."

"Harvey, we _had_ a good case! We had the recorded laugh, we had the reasonable doubt with the brakes functionality – "

"We also had a highly unlikeable defendant with a criminal record, and a jury that would most likely be sympathetic to three women. Our case was highly dependent on speculation."

Mike ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "But all we _need_ is speculation. We don't have the burden of proof. And you, you're supposed to be the best goddamn lawyer around. Are you seriously telling me that Harvey Specter thought he couldn't sway a jury?"

Harvey's eyes narrowed. "Let's say I'm confident enough that even if you fuck it up, I _still_ believe I could convince the jury. Even _without_ the recording."

"But why even bother brokering the deal with her?"

Was it because Harvey was giving him a chance to prove himself? To redeem himself for leaving? To fix the rift between them? Mike realized with amazement that he wanted that opportunity more than anything.

"Do you have any idea how long it takes before a case goes to trial?" Harvey said flatly, "Months. I'm not interested in waiting that long. With this wager, we could have everything resolved in a day."

Oh. Of course it hadn't been because Harvey had wanted to give him a chance to regain some respect.

"You gave me less than twenty-four hours to prepare!"

"Stop complaining. Mays' witness also has less than twenty-four hours to remember every detail of whatever goddamn stories she's told."

"You could have at least given me a heads-up." He knew he sounded petulant, but part of him really couldn't help it. Would it have been too much for Harvey to have at least hinted something of the sort? How long did it take to say? A second? Three, maybe?

Harvey looked at him, unimpressed. "Why are you still sitting here? You've got work to do."

"I'm just saying."

"Go," Harvey said.

"You're not helping me?"

Harvey pointed at the door.

He could take a hint. This was his case, and Harvey had always been infuriatingly adamant that he should resolve his own problems. Fine. Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Mike said, "Going, going."

And it was only on the walk back to the motel that he remembered:

Harvey had called him _his associate_.

**tbc**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: whew, that was a hard one. Men are so difficult to write. :x I ran this one by my boyfriend; he STILL thinks the two are acting too girly. Oops. What do you guys think?<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Did anyone else think Harvey was spectacularly hot in last night's episode? And as always, thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews! I meant to respond individually, I really did, but work has been swallowing up my life the past few days. So please accept this generic thank you. I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

><p>In the wager contract, Harvey had specified that the interview should take place in the Missoula County courthouse, under the supervision of a judge who would rule on any objections raised.<p>

"You do know the standard rules of cross-examination, right?" Harvey said, as they took their seats in the empty courtroom. "You _can_ lead the witness."

"If you're so concerned, why didn't you give me this advice yesterday?"

"I like to get my advice in under the gun. It's more dramatic, don't you think?"

Mike eyed him suspiciously. "I know you said you came out here to help, but sometimes I wonder if you're out here to make sure Trevor gets sent to prison."

He regretted the words immediately. Harvey's good humor faded, and he looked away, his jaw tightening.

Shit. In his head, it had sounded a helluva lot funnier.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm nervous. It was supposed to be a joke."

"Learn better ones."

Any other time he might have laughed at how quintessentially _Harvey_ the order had been, but he was feeling far too flustered. His mind was swimming with the hours and hours of information and evidence that he had pored over for much of the night.

Ok, that was a lie. He had worked on the case, certainly, but the entire night, he'd ruminated over Harvey's words: "_I'll bet that my associate can destroy her credibility within fifteen minutes."_

His knees jiggered with anticipation, his fingers tapped anxiously against the desk, and the words popped out of his mouth before he could recall them: "Yesterday you said I was your associate."

Harvey looked steadfastly forward. "I didn't say that."

"You referred to me as your associate."

There was a long pause. Then, sternly: "This isn't the time to talk about it."

"Then _when_? I've been trying since you got here - "

"And _I've_ been trying to win this case."

It was about the case. It was _always_ about the case. Mike swallowed down a stab of disappointment.

"I have to know. I'll be distracted."

"Live with it," Harvey said curtly, "A good lawyer doesn't allow himself to get distracted."

"Harvey…"

The courtroom door opened, and Martha Mays and Monique Bell walked in.

"Look," Harvey murmured, "I don't have these kinds of conversations, and _especially_ not three seconds before important courtroom proceedings. Shut up. Stop thinking about yourself. And go win the goddamn case."

* * *

><p>Monique Bell was sworn under oath, and Mike fought back sudden waves of anxiety as he stood up.<p>

"Please state your name and occupation."

Monique Bell blinked at him demurely, and Mike could easily see why Trevor had flirted with her. She was a classic Irish beauty: rich, red-hair, deep-set green eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of freckles.

"I thought this wasn't the real thing," she said softly.

"For the record, please."

"Monique Bell. I'm a college student at The University of Montana."

"Go Griz," Mike said, with a friendly smile.

She smiled at him then, a dazzling smile, all pearly whites. Her eyes sparkled. "You're a fan?"

"Objection, relevance," Mays said sharply.

"Your Honor, I didn't ask the question."

"Overruled."

"It's more of I hate the MSU Bobcats," Mike said, naming the University of Montana's chief football rival.

"Objection, counsel is testifying," Mays protested.

"Don't try to burn the fifteen minutes with your objections," Harvey drawled.

The judge, a stern looking African-American man in his late fifties, who Mike thought rather resembled Clarence Thomas, frowned. "Defense counsel, though this may not be a formal proceeding, please refrain from commenting out of turn. Prosecution, ease off a bit on the objections. We're only getting started. As for you, Mr. Ross, I believe sufficient rapport has been established. Ask your questions."

"Yes, Your Honor. My apologies." Mike dropped Monique a sly wink, and she smiled broadly at him.

"Ms. Bell," he said, "I was hoping we could discuss the events of the night of August 1st, 2011. Where were you that night, around 1AM?"

"I was at a club with my friend, Sharon Cooper."

"Which club?"

"Down Low Lounge."

"Do you frequent that club often?"

"At least twice a week."

"Any days in particular?"

"Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Ladies' Night."

She grinned sheepishly. "Cheap drinks. You know how it is, being a poor college student."

"Well an attractive woman such as yourself – "

"Objection," Mays protested.

"My apologies, Your Honor. I'll rephrase." He paused, paced a few steps as if deep in thought, and then met Monique's eyes. "Men usually buy you your drinks, am I correct, Ms. Bell?"

"Usually."

"So you don't bring money with you when you go clubbing?"

"I don't need to," she said, tossing her head slightly.

"You didn't have any cash on you that night?"

"I never bring any."

"And Sharon?"

"She doesn't bring any either."

"That's understandable if she's anything like you."

"Your Honor," Mays protested, "Defense counsel is acting completely out of order."

"Mr. Ross. Approach."

He approached the bench.

"Tread very carefully. This is your final warning," the judge said.

He summoned a sheepish smile. "My apologies, Your Honor. I'll tamp down on…the flirting," the last words he aimed in Monique's general direction, and she flushed prettily.

"Ms. Bell," he continued, "How did you interact with the defendant, Trevor, that night?"

"He came to me, started flirting, and offered to buy me a drink. He then asked for a dance. I figured I owed him one for the drink, so I agreed. After it was over, I went back to Sharon."

"And then?" he prompted.

"We were bored and decided to head home. As we were walking down the street – "

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bell, please allow me to interrupt for a second. Just to get a complete record of all that happened that night, after your dance with the defendant, you found your friend Sharon, and you both decided to head home."

"Yes."

"I have a statement from the bartender here that you bought two more drinks, a Cosmo and – oh, jeez, his handwriting is hard to read." Mike squinted at the sheet of paper. "A Cosmo and – "

"A Flaming Volcano," she chipped in.

"So after your dance with the defendant and before you left the bar, you and Sharon bought a Cosmo and a Flaming Volcano."

"Yes."

"On Ladies Night, that's only $5, isn't it?"

"Only $5.35, actually. Pricing's weird, I know."

Mike nodded along with her, agreeing with a smile. "That is quite weird."

Time to drop the bombshell.

"How did you pay?"

She stared at him, her eyes widening in horror as she realized her mistake. "We – um – we put it on – on our tab," she said shakily.

"The bartender has no record of any drinks being added to your tab that night."

"We had gotten some cash from some guy!"

"First it was your tab, then it was some cash from some guy? Interesting," Mike mused, "Because the defendant alleged to the cops that you had stolen his wallet. Was it…that cash? That guy?"

She looked past him, at Martha Mays, with some alarm. "I had a few drinks; I – I can't really remember _everything_ - "

"Confessing to a foggy memory doesn't help your credibility, Ms. Bell," Mike said quietly.

She looked at him, looking betrayed.

"Your Honor," there was no mistaking the triumph in Harvey's voice, "By the terms of the agreement I outlined to you earlier, I do believe we've established Ms. Bell as an untrustworthy witness."

"Your Honor, one slip-up – " Mays began to argue.

"Those were the terms you agreed to," said Harvey.

"Your boy _manipulated_ – "

"Considering how he just won the case, perhaps a little respect is in order," Harvey said evenly.

Mike's heart gave a leap. Was Harvey _defending_ him?

"Enough," the judge said, with finality. "By the terms of this so-called 'agreement', it is clear that defense counsel has raised doubts to Ms. Bell's credibility. This proceeding is over."

Mays' painted red lips opened and closed, and she slowly sat back down, looking like she'd just been punched in the gut.

Owned.

* * *

><p>Harvey was <em>damn proud<em> of the kid.

Of course he'd been certain that Mike was going to win the bet, because failure simply wasn't an option. But that didn't stop him from feeling ridiculously, inanely proud at the way it had been done.

He hadn't admitted it earlier, but it had _irked_ him when Martha Mays had been so dismissive of Mike's abilities, and kept deriding him by calling him 'boy'. He had let it slide previously because he'd wanted Mays to underestimate Mike's skill, though he had been annoyed at how deeply Mays' attitude seemed to have affected the kid.

He remembered clearly the sheer lack of confidence on Mike's face. The kid really needed more self-esteem, more assurance in the courtroom. He'd set the wager in part to address that issue, to show the kid that he _believed_ in him.

And yes, admittedly, because he had wanted to see _his_ associate kick some ass.

Mike came back to their table, looking as if he were about to break out into a jigger any second. "So?" he said, his boyish face splitting into a grin. "What'd you think?"

Harvey tried to affect nonchalance. "Of all things to focus on, why'd you pick the wallet?"

"I figured Ms. Mays had limited time to prep the witness. She probably would have focused on all the _other_ issues, and neglected to prep for the wallet."

Oh yeah, the kid had done well.

"So?" Mike said, the enthusiasm in his eyes dimming a bit.

"You won," he said.

It was as if Mike completely deflated before his eyes. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "I did."

Harvey felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. Oh hell.

Covertly he glanced around the room. The judge had already excused himself to his chambers. Ms. Mays and Ms. Bell were in hushed conversation. He noted with indifference that the redhead seemed to be in tears.

Nobody was watching them.

He extended his fist outwards.

Mike gaped at him for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Hurry up," Harvey said, crossly.

The kid fist bumped him, and then broke out into a delighted smile. He did a slight hop, a skip -

"Don't do the dance," Harvey admonished, with mock severity. "Get your things."

And as Mike turned away to gather his files and folders together, Harvey allowed himself to smile.

* * *

><p>Trevor was ecstatic when told. "Thank you, man. I owe you. I really do," he said sincerely to Mike, "Look, let's go out tonight, I know this place which has the best beer - "<p>

Harvey cleared his throat. "Wait just a second. You have a flight to catch tonight."

"I – I have a – what? Are you talking to me?" Trevor blinked.

Harvey reached into his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope. "You owe $10,000 in attorney's fees."

"Dude, you can't be serious."

"I'm willing to overlook that," Harvey continued.

Mike stared at him, utterly speechless.

"In exchange, you're signing this work contract," Harvey continued grimly, "I have a client in San Francisco who has plans for a software start-up. You may have lied about being a software developer in the past, but I sincerely hope that you have at least some skill in the area. I've volunteered your services to him."

"You – you got me a job? In San Francisco?"

"The contract also states that you aren't to contact Mike Ross until you've both been drug-free and gainfully employed for five years. You aren't to contact him, you aren't to see him. You are going to keep your ass in San Francisco learning how to be a valuable contribution to society."

"But I – "

"Harvey." Mike felt obligated to protest. Didn't he get a say in any of this? He hadn't given up his career, flown all the way out here, and then gone up against the witness just to send Trevor away! And yet…wasn't it what he wanted? It was a chance for Trevor, almost like the chance he had been given.

Completely undeterred, Harvey continued, "If you violate the terms of this contract in any fashion, then I will consider it a breach of contract, and bring it before the court. I'll personally make sure that you spend _at least_ a dozen years behind bars." He paused a moment, letting the threat sink in. Then he extended a pen. "Sign."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. Sign."

Trevor stared. "Why are you helping me?"

"Don't mistake any of this for kindness or generosity on my part; I'd rather lock you behind bars," Harvey said coolly.

Trevor looked at Mike. "Should I do it?"

He swallowed thickly. "It's a chance for you, dude. Job and everything."

And though he was loath to admit it, he was relieved, relieved that Trevor would be contractually obligated to stay out of his way at least for a few years.

Trevor took the pen and signed.

"Good. I have a cab waiting to take you to the airport," Harvey said, folding up the contract and placing it back into his suit jacket. Trevor looked at Mike with a combination of dismay and trepidation, Mike stared back at him, then at Harvey.

There was an awkward pause. "I'll give you two a minute," Harvey excused himself.

The two of them were left alone, standing outside the Missoula County Courthouse. Mike shifted awkwardly. The contract _was_ a good one, but there was no mistaking its true purpose: to keep Trevor far, far away.

"This is it, man," Trevor finally said, quietly. He squinted off into the distance, a sudden wind ruffling his hair. "Seventeen years."

Mike held out a hand. Trevor took it.

A handshake seemed like a pretty poor way to cap off seventeen years of friendship, but Mike had the feeling that nothing really would suffice. Oh sure, it hadn't been the best of times. Trevor had been a damn crappy friend at times, and they'd fucked up their lives hundreds of times over.

But he was kind of like family, the kind of screw-up family that you stuck by because they were family.

"See you, man," Trevor said, his voice raspy.

"Count on it," Mike said.

They did their punching routine. And then a quick hug.

And then the cab was there, and Trevor was getting in, the door was closing, and then just like that, he was gone.

To California.

Gone.

There was a heavy ache in his heart as Mike turned around slowly to see Harvey, standing a few feet back, looking askance at him.

"You got rid of him," the words fell numbly from Mike's lips. "My oldest friend."

Harvey's jaw set and clenched, and he put his hands in his pockets. He didn't apologize.

"Part of me hates you right now," Mike said, quite honestly.

The words hung between them.

"And the other part?" Harvey said finally, quietly.

"Relieved." Mike closed his eyes for a few seconds, dragging fresh air into his lungs.

Harvey was still watching him with concern. It was a bit unnerving to see that sort of expression on the older man's face.

"How'd you arrange all this?" As far as topics went, that probably wasn't the best one. In fact, Mike didn't actually care too much for the answer, but the silence was getting to be too overbearing.

"I called in a few favors."

"Oh."

The tense silence was back. Mike exhaled audibly, tilting his head back toward the sky and squeezing his eyes shut. When he re-opened his eyes, he felt a bit better. Lighter.

"You lied to Trevor," he said.

"Did I?"

"Breach of contract is a civil offense, not a criminal one. Civil offenses aren't punishable by prison time."

A small smile touched Harvey's lips. "Yes, well…as long as no one ever tells_ him_ that…"

The shock of the abrupt departure was wearing off, and though he felt a bit like a terrible friend for it, he _was_ feeling relieved. No longer would he have to worry about Trevor needing a bailout from jail. No longer would he have to worry that his friend would tangle them both in with the wrong crowd.

Those times were over.

Harvey, he realized, had done for him what he hadn't had the strength to do himself.

It was time to move on.

"You bought a plane ticket," he said, with sudden realization, "You bought a ticket for Trevor even before knowing today's outcome. You were so sure I'd win?"

Harvey looked uncomfortable.

"You were sure I'd win," Mike repeated, stunned.

"I need to pack."

Mike's exuberance dampened. Right. He'd forgotten. Harvey was leaving, leaving back to New York, Trevor was on his way to California, and he…well, what _was_ he going to do?

* * *

><p>They walked back to Harvey's hotel room together in silence. Several times Mike wanted desperately to talk, to try to settle whatever was still between them, but each time he couldn't quite figure out how to start. If only Harvey were an easier person to read! Right now, he really didn't know what to make of the situation. He didn't even know if he still had a job or not.<p>

All he knew for certain was what he felt. Despite their terse arguments, the angry words, there was no doubting the camaraderie he'd felt when they had been piecing together the evidence and working on the case. The past few days had opened his eyes to new revelations.

The realization that they were a damn good team.

The realization that he _could_ be a good lawyer.

The confirmation that Harvey was more than he seemed.

All his previous frustration now felt so very, very far away. All he wanted was to go back to the way things had been. Could they? Would Harvey have really come all the way out here to help with the case if he intended to fire him?

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to him, Harvey was entertaining very similar thoughts.<p>

He had felt disappointed, incredibly disappointed, when he'd learned that Mike had gone to Montana. Hell, he might even say he'd felt betrayed.

Well, maybe he wasn't willing to go that far yet.

But he had come out here to do the right thing, and help a friend in need. And somewhere along the line, that previous disappointment had faded.

Harvey had never really seen much point in mucking around with emotion, especially when it was in the past.

God, Mike had wanted _so many times_ to talk about the situation. Harvey had done his best to deflect each attempt, because he just didn't _do that_.

It was ironic, he supposed, that he talked circles around people for a living, and yet he could never just talk _to_ people.

But what it came down to was that he still wanted the kid as his associate. Sure the kid had too soft of a heart for his own good, but there was no doubting the value of his eidetic memory. And judging from how Mike had handled the mock trial (until he'd given up, of course) and how he'd handled the Ms. Bell, Harvey was reasonable confident that the capacity for success was there. All the right instincts were. Maybe they could make a lawyer of him yet.

Plus, if he was truly honest with himself, then he'd never had any intention whatsoever of accepting Mike's resignation. Kid wasn't getting away that easy.

His decision was made. Time for some words.

But hell, he might as well have some fun frightening the kid while he was at it.

"You owe the firm quite a few hours of overtime for all the unauthorized time you've spent out here."

Mike's head jerked up. His lips moved soundlessly, in wonderment.

"You can forget about taking any dinner breaks for the next few weeks," Harvey said sternly, "I'm going to put you on an assignment detail with a new client."

"Wait," Mike stammered, "You mean I'm not fired?"

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying? Yes, you're not fired."

He watched as sheer happiness lit up the younger man's face. "I'll work whatever assignment detail you want," Mike said eagerly, "I'll stay all night at the office – "

"Instead of your dinner break, you'll meet with this new client for an hour every day. You'll treat her to dinner and you'll make good conversation."

Mike's expression radiated confusion. "That's it? I don't have to broker a deal or anything?"

"The client's name," Harvey said, with an absolutely straight face, "is Mrs. Ross."

And he walked away chuckling as his associate's mouth dropped open.

**THE END!**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you all! It's been an awesome experience writing this fic, and a huge part of that is due to how engaged and entertaining you guys have been.<strong>

**For those who have asked, no, I am not a lawyer. Everything "law-like" in this story is entirely based off of one class I took in high school on Business Law.**

**Coming up next: Harvey tries to teach Mike how to drive. Fluff and silliness. I need a break from the serious. :) **


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